


Workplace Hazard

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, here's your office porn you sinners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma offers a much needed distraction from the horrible monotony of Kuroo's workplace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Workplace Hazard

**Author's Note:**

> like _everyone_ was gunning for this, so I finally wrote it. It was actually pretty fun. Kuroo in a suit, mmm . . .
> 
> Enjoy!

It's been a long day at the office. Kuroo's tired, grumpy, missing home . . . but a glance at the clock tells him he's still got an hour before he can leave. He loosens his tie, not sure why he's still wearing it when he knows his manager has already gone home for the day. Maybe it's just the office walls around him, the desk in front of him, the smell of paper and ink that makes him feel like he needs to stay properly put together. That he needs to fit in with his environment, that that will somehow make it a more cohesive unit. He's one with the desk chair and the pen in his hand. He's one with the coffee maker in the corner, the carpet on the floor beneath his shoes, the humming computer beside him.

He's invisible, just another cog in the machine, and he hates it. 

At one time, being a cohesive unit was fun. In volleyball, being on a team was exciting. It got his blood racing, his heart pumping. His high school years, for all their struggles, were possibly the best years of his life. At least, looking back on them from his spot behind his desk it sure seems like it.

With adulthood came responsibilities, and with responsibilities came monotony. He was drowning in it, suffocating.

He tugs at his tie until it comes undone, lying on either side of his neck.

Just one more hour.

A soft knock on the door suggests distraction, and he eagerly calls "come in!" before he can think to redo his tie. But it's only Kenma, peering around the edge of the door, through the strands of hair that have fallen from the band he uses to keep his hair at a tail near the base of his neck. He blinks at Kuroo slowly, brows coming together slightly above his nose.

"You're still here." He says it as a statement rather than a question.

Kuroo huffs. "Yeah. I have to finish up these reports and then file them. We got more clients this week than we were suspecting. How's IT?"

Kenma blinks again. "People are stupid."

Kuroo's huff turns into a laugh this time. "I won't argue with that."

The atmosphere relaxed, Kenma steps into the room, shutting it behind him. He tugs absently on the string of his hoodie, glancing around the room in what appears to be an effort to not make eye contact. Since he mostly talks to people over instant messaging or the phone, he's not required to adhere to the same dress code as Kuroo, and so instead of slacks, a belt, a button down shirt and tie, he's wearing jeans, a black shirt with a white cat on the front, and the red hoodie he rarely parts with. He's been wearing that same hoodie since high school, it seems like. Kuroo can't help but smile fondly as he looks at it.

"You don't have to stay," he offers. "I'm going to be here for a while longer. I can give you money to grab some take out on your way home though, if you want."

Kenma's frown deepens. "That'll be the third dinner you've missed this week."

Kuroo gestures helplessly to the piles of papers on his desk. "I'm sorry, Kenma. I'm just . . . swamped."

Kenma approaches the desk slowly, looking over the reports scattered about the surface. Reaching out he sets his finger on a pile. Kuroo narrows his eyes, glancing from the finger to Kenma's face, but Kenma isn't watching him. Instead, he's looking down at the papers under his finger, his features expressionless.

"Kenma . . ." Kuroo says it as a warning, but that doesn't stop Kenma from very deliberately pushing the papers off the desk and onto the floor. Kuroo sighs. "Stop causing trouble and go home. I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise." He crouches to pick up the papers and feels more flutter down around his head. Frowning, he straightens to see Kenma's swept the rest of the papers off the desk as well.

"Kenma," he says again, though he's finding it hard to be upset when Kenma's standing there looking at him with the barest of smirks on his face. _Fuck, he's cute._

"Is there something you _need_?" he asks then. "Or are you just being bothersome for the fun of it?"

Kenma tilts his head, his gaze speculative. "I need you," he says after a moment.

Kuroo's on his feet by now, setting the papers back on the desk, when Kenma's words register and he freezes in place. There's nothing particularly different about his tone. It's soft and even as always, but there's something there, the slightest lilt, the smallest tease, that Kuroo, after years spent beside Kenma as his friend and then boyfriend, picks up on immediately.

He lifts his head, meeting that gaze. Kenma's eyes lower, roaming slowly over his jaw, his neck, his chest, and lower. Kuroo feels goosebumps prickling along his arms as Kenma's gaze turns _hungry_. It feels like he's undressing him with his eyes, devouring him without moving, and Kuroo's knees feel weak.

" _Here_?" he asks, and his voice comes out higher than he means it to. He clutches the edge of the desk, as Kenma takes a step forward. He clears his throat, turning away from those piercing eyes, shuffling the papers in front of him for something to do. "Kenma, I don't--that's not exactly appropriate for the workplaaaa--Kenma!" He jolts, as he feels a warm hand rest against the front of his pants, palming him gently.

Kenma pauses, tilting his head once more as he looks up at Kuroo. One of his eyebrows quirks upward. "Do you want me to stop?"

Kuroo swallows down the lump rising in his throat. His veins feel like they're on fire. They haven't done anything like this before. It feels dangerous. It feels wrong.

His blood is racing, his heart pumping.

Slowly, he grins. "Not at all."

Wrapping his arm around Kenma's waist, he pulls him closer, bending to press a kiss against his mouth. Kenma responds eagerly, parting his lips almost immediately to grasp at Kuroo's lower lip with his teeth, nibbling, licking, until Kuroo opens for him, and he delves inside, tongue warm and soft. Kuroo shivers, bracing one hand against the edge of the desk once more. The building isn't clear yet. Someone could still walk in on them. It's unlikely, but not impossible. It's a rush. An adrenaline spike the like of which he feels he hasn't experienced in years. Not since volleyball.

Kenma presses in against him, hands sliding over his sides and chest, down to his waistband where they begin to tug at his belt, unbuckling it. Kuroo moans in anticipation, breathing hot pants against Kenma's mouth. Kenma's breath has quickened as well, and when he pulls away, Kuroo can see the flush that's risen high on his delicate cheekbones. Unable to help it, Kuroo brushes his knuckles gently across the pink skin, which only causes the blush to darken.

He's trying to think of something to say, something sappy enough to fit the situation, when Kenma tugs on his slacks, opening them. He reaches inside Kuroo's underwear, wrapping around his half-hard member to give it a couple tugs. Kuroo groans, dropping his head onto Kenma's shoulder. The rush of heat pools low in his stomach, throbbing gently, and he can feel himself growing harder in Kenma's hand as he pulls and strokes his thumb across the tip in slow circles.

"Kenma," he breathes, keeping his voice pitched low. He can't let anyone hear him.

Kenma turns his head, pressing his lips against Kuroo's ear. They're damp from the kiss, and as they brush against the curve of his ear, another shiver runs down his spine.

"Stay still," he commands quietly, his breath hot on Kuroo's skin. He bites into the lobe of Kuroo's ear briefly, before he sinks to his knees.

Kuroo clutches the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turn white, as Kenma's small pink tongue runs leisurely up the side of his shaft to its head. He flicks the tip of his tongue along the slit, tiny, quick movements that barely give him any sensation. A tease. Kuroo groans, resisting the urge to grab at Kenma's hair. With agonizing slowness, Kenma wraps his lips around the head before carefully descending, taking Kuroo into his mouth centimeter by centimeter. Kuroo bites his lip hard to stifle the next, louder groan, as wet heat encases him. Kenma presses his tongue against him as he pulls back, adding friction, though it's minimal.

"Sh-shit, Kenma," Kuroo gasps shakily, trying to stay still as Kenma commanded and not chase after his mouth with his hips.

Kenma takes his thighs in his hands, holding him steady, as he moves forward again, this time giving a couple sucks as he does. Kuroo flinches at the very light scrape of teeth, another shudder causing his body to tremble. His legs are quivering, he's pretty sure he needs to sit down before he collapses, but Kenma's holding him with a tight grip, not allowing him to move, as he continues his torture.

"Fuck, Kenma, _please_ ," he pants after a couple more minutes of this. His heart is pounding an erratic beat against his ribs, and his entire body feels flushed. He's burning, shaking, and Kenma finally pulls away, a bead of pre-cum lingering on his lips. The sudden chill to his throbbing member brings some clarity to his mind, and Kuroo takes a couple deep breaths in an attempt to calm down some.

Kenma stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, as he turns to step over to Kuroo's bag by the door. Kuroo grimaces, feeling somewhat embarrassed, as Kenma digs into it and pulls out a small tube of lubricant. 

"I swear I've never had sex with anyone else in this office," he says quickly, not wanting Kenma to get the wrong idea.

But Kenma only smirks faintly. "I know," he says, stepping forward again. "I hear you in the bathroom sometimes."

Kuroo's pretty sure his face is _actually_ on fire. "Oh fuck," he groans, covering his face with the hand not currently glued to the desk.

Kenma laughs softly. "If it helps any, the others probably think you're just having a really awesome shit."

Kuroo lowers his hand to glare at Kenma. "That doesn't help." He can't believe this. Do all his coworkers think he's a pervert? It's not often that he feels the need, but sometimes thinking about Kenma downstairs in the basement, most of the time alone in front of his computer . . . chewing on his pen or sucking on a lollipop . . . the images are too enticing to ignore. 

So maybe he is a pervert. Oh well. He can live with that.

Kenma moves between Kuroo and the desk. He sweeps his arm across it, knocking the papers to the floor _again_. Kuroo has a difficult time being annoyed with him this time, though, because he's sliding off his jeans and underwear and hopping up onto the desk to sit. He leans back, his length already erect and flushed pink. Propping himself up on one elbow, he holds the bottle of lube out to Kuroo.

Kuroo, momentarily frozen in awe, doesn't notice it at first until it smacks him in the face, and he scrambles to catch it. "Sorry," he says sheepishly, shifting closer so he can stand over Kenma. He bends, pressing a soft kiss against Kenma's stomach, and then the side of his knee, as he finally pries his fingers away from the desk to squeeze lube onto them. He rubs them together, warming them, before placing his index finger against Kenma's entrance.

"Ready?" he murmurs against his knee, and Kenma nods, inhaling sharply.

Carefully, Kuroo inserts his finger. He feels the clench of Kenma's muscles around it, and it causes his own erection to twitch, dribbling more pre-cum. He's really going to have to clean this office thoroughly before he leaves. Banishing that thought for now, he concentrates on sucking against the soft skin of Kenma's thigh, moving down as he begins to gently thrust his finger. Kenma hisses softly, his breathing labored, and when Kuroo sinks his teeth into a nice fleshy part of his inner thigh, Kenma twitches, nearly kneeing Kuroo in the head. He doesn't, though, and slowly Kuroo feels him beginning to relax.

Pleased, Kuroo presses a second finger into Kenma. This time he hears a hitch of breath followed by what could be a stifled moan. He lifts his head to look down at Kenma, and sees him stuffing his knuckles into his mouth, his cheeks flushed, hair sticking to the sides of his face. He's beautiful.

"You're beautiful," Kuroo breathes softly, which earns him a foot to his face, shoving gently.

"Sh-shut up," Kenma gasps around his hand.

Kuroo laughs quietly, reaching to pull the hand away so he can kiss him. Kenma melts beneath his mouth, his fingers moving to his hair to grip and pull gently. Kuroo begins to move his fingers, scissoring them slowly, and Kenma squirms beneath him, moaning into his mouth. There's resistance against his fingers, hot walls clenching as Kenma tenses, but Kuroo simply moves his lips down Kenma's jaw to his neck, peppering it with soft kisses, until Kenma's breathing grows less ragged, and he begins to relax.

That's when Kuroo grins and curls his fingers up against Kenma's prostate.

"Kuro!" Kenma yelps, louder than he probably should have.

Kuroo quickly covers his mouth with his hand, glancing toward the door guiltily. For a second they pause, tears gathering in Kenma's eyes, until Kuroo realizes he's paused with his fingers up against Kenma's prostate, and he quickly releases the pressure.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he pants, his heart hammering wildly at the scare. 

Kenma closes his eyes, slumping back against the desk. Kuroo carefully withdraws his fingers, unsure if he should continue. Kenma lifts his head once his hand his free, frowning faintly.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

Kuroo blinks at him. "Giving you a breather? I thought--"

Kenma sits up, reaching out to grab a handful of Kuroo's shirt, tugging him closer. "I _need_ you," he reiterates in a low voice, thick with desire, that causes Kuroo's knees to weaken. Kenma's member is swollen, leaking pre-cum profusely, and with their close proximity it's pressed up against Kuroo's shirt. He glances down as he feels the damp stain, cursing softly as he begins to unbutton the shirt. Kenma releases him, relaxing back against the desk and watching him, panting.

As Kuroo discards the shirt and tie, he realizes he probably should've done that to start. Dismissing that concern from his mind before it can distract him, he leans over Kenma again, kissing his forehead and then his nose before pulling back to look at him.

"Do you think you're ready?" he ask quietly.

Kenma nods, reaching for the lube to hand it to him.

Kuroo's not entirely sure he stretched Kenma enough, but Kenma seems impatient, already wrapping one leg around his hips to pull him closer to the desk. Kuroo hastens to prepare himself, spreading the lube over his dripping member before grabbing Kenma's hips and tugging him closer.

"This might hurt some," Kuroo warns, as he lines them up.

Kenma's staring at him, breathing quickly through his parted lips. "Go on already," he huffs, and Kuroo stifles a laugh.

"Okay, Bossy."

Slowly, he begins to sink himself past Kenma's resistance, stretching his walls to fit. It's tight and hot and Kuroo pauses about half-way through, panting heavily as his body begins to tremble. The pressure is so great already, it feels so good, but he remains still, waiting for Kenma's go ahead.

Kenma's teeth are clenched, the veins of his neck standing out as his fingers grip the surface of the desk beneath him. Kuroo bends forward, placing tiny kisses along Kenma's jaw until he sighs, relaxing.

"Kuro," he murmurs softly, brushing his lips against Kuro's cheek.

"Mm?" Kuroo reaches for one of Kenma's hands, turning it over to lace their fingers together.

"Fuck me."

Always so blunt, this one. Kuroo actually does laugh this time, lowering his forehead against Kenma shoulder, as he carefully pushes in the rest of the way. They both gasp at the sensation, as their hips slot together, and Kuroo's thighs quiver. It's so tight, so hot, so _good_. Kuroo burrows his nose against Kenma's collarbone and muffles his groan. Kenma's panting against his hair, he can feel each puff of warm air, and it sends shivers down his spine.

Slowly, he begins to thrust, rocking his hips back to move them forward again in a gentle, shallow rhythm. His skin is burning, fire blazing through his veins as the pleasure increases, sharp and throbbing low in his stomach. Kenma's length rubs against his stomach with each movement, leaving trails of sticky liquid against his skin, but he doesn't care. With each thrust Kenma grips him tighter, around his hips, his fingers clutching his, his other hand finding purchase on Kuroo's back, nails biting into his shoulder.

He doesn't care about that either. He's making Kenma feel good, he can tell. His name is falling from Kenma's parted lips, over and over, breathless like a prayer.

"Kuro, Kuro, _Kuro_."

Kuroo shivers, pressing his lips against Kenma's chest. "Ah, _Kenma_ ," he moans, pushing faster, harder, adjusting to do so.

Kenma begins to cry out again, quickly stifling it. Kuroo lifts his head to see him biting his lip so hard it's turning white, his skin slick with sweat. Gripping Kenma's hip firmly in his hand, the other still clutching Kenma's, he shoves deeper. He knows he's at the right spot, because Kenma's hips jolt, his back arching.

"Kuro," he whimpers, eyes squeezed shut.

"Say my name," Kuroo breathes, his heart pounding in his throat. He gives another hard thrust against that spot, and Kenma stifles another cry. "Kenma, Kenma, say it." He wants to hear his name in that mouth, slipping past that tongue and those lips, knowing that when he hears it it'll be full of every emotion Kenma struggles to say throughout the day, it'll be full of every "I love you" and "I need you" and everything in-between. That's how it always feels when Kenma says his name, but especially in moments like these, when they're connected: one body, one soul.

He thrusts again, watching Kenma break apart beneath him, the way his lips part, his head falls back, and he trembles. He can feel him dumping pre-cum against his stomach, and he rolls his hips in such a way to increase the friction there between them, a deliberate drag of skin against Kenma's twitching length.

"T-Tetsurou," he gasps, his voice shaking. " _Tetsurou_."

There it is. Kuroo feels his climax building quickly. He ducks his head, straining, trying to hold back so Kenma can finish before him. But Kenma is undulating, meeting his thrusts, eager for release, and he's moaning his name with such . . . _reverence_. Like Kuroo is his entire world. Like Kuroo is his entire _universe_.

It's too much. The sensations are too much, especially paired with his name breathed in such a way. Kuroo stiffens, biting his lip hard as he comes and sparks of heat dance across his vision, blurring it. The pleasure crashes over him, and he hears Kenma's soft cry as though from a great distance and yet it seems so close he can feel it reverberate through his chest. Kenma's rhythm stutters and then slows to a stop, as he sags back against the desk. Kuroo stops as well, panting heavily, shoulder stinging from where Kenma's nails broke the skin.

After a moment, he pulls out and fixes his slacks and belt, before collapsing back into his office chair, his legs unable to hold him any longer. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes, as he continues to gasp for breath. He hears Kenma moving off the desk, probably grabbing his clothes to slip back on. He wonders if he should help Kenma clean up, but then he feels a swipe of tissues at his abdomen, cleaning away the liquid there. He opens his eyes, ready to thank Kenma, but Kenma climbs into his lap, cutting him off with a deep kiss.

Kuroo wraps his arms around him, relaxing back in the chair again, as he cradles Kenma to his chest and kisses him tenderly, just a soft press, a gentle caress. Then he sets his forehead against Kenma's and breathes a deep sigh.

"This was a bad idea, and if anyone finds out about this we could get fired . . . but thanks. I'm feeling a lot less stressed now."

Kenma smiles faintly. "Good."

Kuroo nuzzles his face against the side of Kenma's. "Did you plan this?" he asks with a grin. "It sort of feels like you planned this."

Kenma doesn't reply simply kisses him again. 

_I played right into his trap._ Kuroo thinks, as he melts back into the kiss.

Yet again he finds he doesn't care.

**Author's Note:**

> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
